


Speak, Dear Muse

by silmarilz1701



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Found Family, Hyperion Heights (Once Upon a Time), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, The Muses - Freeform, This is probably going to be really long but that's my brand so, ouat season 7, slowburn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-22 13:22:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30039345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silmarilz1701/pseuds/silmarilz1701
Summary: One Muse, alone in the world, is a tragic fate indeed.Hyperion Heights. Seattle's tourism board loved to label it the city's most up and coming neighborhood. With the assistance of Victoria Belfrey, it was being changed from a little hideaway to the best place to live and work. They liked to herald her as the greatest thing to happen to Seattle since the Space Needle.But Melody only knew one thing. Victoria Belfrey had cost her a job, and was soon to take another from her. Resigning herself to spending tearful nights on the Sound between waitressing and street performing, she graples with the grief that fuels her epic poems and drove her to Hyperion Heights five years previous.With the arrival of fellow writer Henry Mills, however, Melody begins to ask questions. She beings to question if Victoria Belfrey really is untouchable. She questions if the lyre and ship and pan flute drawings in her journal are just from her own imagination. And more than anything, she begins to question if the trail of dead in her wake are really dead at all.
Relationships: Wishverse Captain Hook | Detective Rogers/Original Female Character(s)





	1. ...in the pale moonlight...

**INVOCATION OF THE MUSE**

* * *

_Here in lands not our own, we call to thee,_

_Speak, O Great Calliope of old,_

_Dearest Muse, and Zeus' daughter,_

_Hero of light who toiled long with the Darkness,_

_Strong of hand but moved oft to pity,_

_Crowned a vessel of creation, and gifted powers to enchant_

_Tell us that tale which found you cast away from love and like minds,_

_Until you battled demons and neon gods alike,_

_Memories wiped until only grief remained,_

_Tell us, O dearest Calliope, from whence you came._

* * *

**CHAPTER ONE**

...in the pale moonlight...

* * *

**Hyperion Heights**

* * *

No matter how often she came to the water, it always soothed her. As wind whipped her long brown hair into her face without regard for the grey beanie on her head, Melody tried to relax. She listened to the rhythm of the waves, a steadiness interrupted now and then by the sharp honk of a car horn. The water almost glowed in the moonlight. Melody let the scent of the Sound fill her nose, an oddly comforting mix of fish, salt, and damp sand.

Few people were with her there in the Golden Gardens Park. Most of Seattle had retreated back into their neighborhoods once the sun had set, leaving the beach beautifully empty. Melody had wanted to make the most of her night off from the bar. She got so few of them those days, certainly fewer nights off than when she'd worked at the coffee shop.

Melody's face fell. Of course, that all would be changing yet again very soon. In fact, she only had one more night of work before it would all be over. One more night at Roni's, one more night before Victoria Belfrey forced another of her workplaces closed.

The waves continued to lap the beach. It was rhythmic, predictable. Like a heartbeat.

Like a song.

Melody couldn't suppress her gasping breath at the memories that flooded her senses. She could still see their faces and their voices. Cleo and her backpack, and her plan to unearth the next great historical dig. Erin and her wedding journal, always looking for the next venue to scout. Talia and her comedy tour, someday to open across the globe. Her sisters not by blood but bound for life by a love of music and those three Greek letters they'd all chosen.

But the world spun on even without them in it. The dark night filled with lapping waves spoke to this truth even as she sat alone on the bench, trying to find solace in the epicness of nature. She couldn't find solace though, not when even her dreams tried to remind her of the sisters she had lost.

It was always the same. They would take on the form of Grecian women, glowing with light, smiles painted on every face. It was never just those three, either. Somehow her whole Sorority family, all eight of them, Littles, Bigs, and G-Bigs, would be in the dream.

Melody scoffed, lifting the Venti hot chocolate to her lips. It was still warm, though not nearly as hot as when she'd gotten it. The liquid chocolate coated her mouth and throat.

It wasn't a dream, it was a nightmare.

She blamed her degree in Classical Literature for letting her eight sisters take on the form of the Muses. Each night when she closed her eyes she would see them, watch as they screamed and begged for help. But she could never get to them. She could never save them.

Glancing down at her watch, Melody sighed. 9:30. She hadn't driven herself from the Heights and wanted to catch a Swyft ride before they bumped the prices up too high. With a last, lingering look out across the basin, she stood. Her brown boots sank down into the sand. It took only a moment for her to wrap her arms around herself for a bit more warmth and move through the wind back towards the Visitors' Center.

It took nearly ten minutes of shivering in the chilly night air before the car pulled up. It was grey, befitting both her mood and the sky that had darkened over with rain clouds. After a quick check of the license plate and the name of her driver, she opened the back door.

"Melody Black?" asked the man.

She nodded. "That's me. You're Henry?"

"Yep."

He couldn't have been much younger than her, his dark hair contrasting the pale face that looked about as tired as she felt. As she scrambled into the back, smoothing down her brown skirt over her dark leggings to its proper place, he asked her to confirm their destination. She gave the street address.

"Hyperion Heights? Pretty up and coming area," he said.

She turned from the window, leaving behind a small fog cloud, and nodded. "It's a good place."

Up and Coming. That was on every bulletin board and Seattle tourist website. Hyperion Heights, the next hot destination. A Starbucks to be installed on each corner, a new luxury movie theater in the works, and beautiful towering apartments with the best appliances money could buy planned for the coming year. But Melody missed the old Hyperion Heights.

She missed her Barista job, in the little mom-and-pop-owned loft-style corner cafe. It had been therapeutic, spending each morning handing out drinks to customers, offering them a forced smile to hopefully inspire their day. It had paid pretty well, and what she couldn't earn selling espresso she made doing street performances under the graffiti murals.

Soon that wall would be gone. Soon all of the Hyperion Heights she had come to know over the past half a decade would be gone. Even Roni was selling out to Belfrey. A buzz in her pocket interrupted her thoughts and she turned from the city streets outside the car.

Speak of the devil. Roni's name popped up in a notification across her lock screen. She opened it.

**"Bring your guitar tomorrow night. Might as well have some fun on our last shift."**

The corners of her mouth perked up in a smile. The acoustics in Roni's were wonderful. She'd never formally played there but even just sitting around having drinks, she had been able to tell it would be a good music venue. At least she could enjoy it with her music once before Belfrey tore it all to the ground.

The car stilled as they came to a streetlight. Red filled the car, and the strobing of headlights being obscured by cross-traffic lulled Melody. She couldn't see her driver's face from where he had one hand lazily on the top of the wheel, but his yawn told her enough. They were all tired. She was tired, Roni was tired, even this Henry was tired. Seattle seemed to have that effect on people those days.

Green light flooded the car and a small jerk as it started forward made her turn back to the side window. Her mind wandered back to Cleo, Talia, and Erin. Her smile fell. She wondered what their last moments had been like, if they'd felt any pain when the 18 Wheeler had bulldozed into them. The driver had been drunk. He'd been fine, protected by a ton of metal and breakneck speed.

Her sorority sisters hadn't been so lucky. They'd barely celebrated being free of college for two weeks before their bodies had been carted away to the morgue. Their cold bodies had left behind a broken family, a sorority family line destroyed by that drunkard.

"Here we are." Henry clicked a few buttons on his propped-up phone as the car came to a stop before her apartment building. He turned and looked at her. "Have a good night."

"Thank you," she told him. Offering a small smile, Melody tried to cheer up as she got out of the car. "You too."

He nodded back with a smile of his own right before she shut the side door. Melody shifted her skirt down again. A light drizzle of rain began to fall around her as she looked at the building that had been home to her for the last five years. The dark red brick looked pleasant enough, but the iron fire escape had seen better days, and the padlocked front door screamed in protest at being opened.

She didn't hear a sound once the front door of the building shut with a click. She checked her watch. 10:15. Most of her neighbors were respectable folk, asleep or quiet enough not to be noticed. The fading off-white wallpaper glowed in the soft light of the entrance. It felt almost homey.

Melody started up. Her footfalls sounded loud to her ears in the silent stairwell. But no one said anything as she came to the third floor, so she just dug around her pocket for her keys and found her door. 317.

It was small, the same one-bedroom apartment she'd had since she'd first moved to the city, running from grief and graduation. It had walls painted white, with dark wood crown molding. A few paintings of areas around Puget Sound hung on the walls. She'd bought them from an art shop since closed. Melody owed Victoria Belfrey for that one too.

Her keys went on the sandy-colored Formica counters. Her hat, scarf, and coat took the two hooks to the left of the entrance across from the kitchen. She quickly turned a lamp on so she could turn off the painfully bright overhead light and then settled into her wooden desk.

She opened her journal. Two-thirds of it was filled already. Mostly she had snippets of poetry, rough drafts often still waiting for revision. Sketches of her favorite spots in Seattle joined them, as well as drawings of ships. Some, she had drawn when visiting the water. Others she drew from her own imagination.

Some of the entries weren't creative pieces at all. They were journalings of her dreams, of her fears and nightmares. Sometimes they were snippets of conversation that came to mind. Her plans of being a full-time writer had died with her sisters, but she still tried to keep track of inspiration that came to her.

Just in case.

Melody yawned. Rain had started to pound on the balcony door, the noise lulling her to sleep like the lapping of the waves. Rhythmic, predictable. Beautiful.

She flipped through the journal. A page caught her eye, one she'd sketched almost a year ago, of a Grecian lyre with only nine strings, and beneath it a pan flute. Her blood always ran cold when she saw them. Melody wasn't sure why she kept the page around but she did. It was like she couldn't remove it. She couldn't erase it, not from the page nor from her memory.

Her phone buzzed again. Roni.

**"What's your favorite kind of donut?"**

Melody smirked. She pushed the chair out from her desk, typing back her reply as she went into her bedroom. **"Double chocolate."**

**"Gotcha. We're going to throw a mini party tomorrow. Just me, you, and the bar."**

**"One last hurrah before Belfrey gets her claws into it?"**

**"Something like that."**

Melody couldn't help but laugh. One last hurrah. A funeral party for their dying neighborhood.

That sounded about right.


	2. ...warm blood running deep...

**Neverland**

* * *

Calliope took a deep breath. Her smile widened even as she closed her eyes, relishing the scent of petrichor as rain hit the earth for the first time in months. She raised her arms, both bare thanks to the loose tan, sleeveless tunic that billowed around her torso in the breeze. As water soaked her hair, her skin, her clothes, she just smiled.

She felt the rain wash away the grime from her latest adventure. It brought new life, liquid inspiration from the skies. What a gift, to stand in the rain without another person for miles. Just her and the cracked earth. As raindrops saturated the dusty ground, it began to creep into her bare sandals. Grittiness turned smooth as it molded into the cracks of the pads of her feet.

All this, rain to give life, because she sang it into existence. Calliope never failed to be grateful for her magic, creation from lyrical word. She could help, like now, bringing life-giving waters to the parched land.

She opened her eyes. The darkened sky split from her father's lightning. Moments later, the thunderclap that shook the very bones of the earth. Such beauty in nature's chaos. Calliope wanted to stand in that open, muddying field forever. Except she didn't, not really.

She had infinite Realms to visit. She'd told her sister Urania that the stars were the limit, and even then, she would fight to find her way into the dark behind the stars. Melpomene had just smiled at her, eyes still wet from crying over her decision to leave their home. She'd begged Calliope to stay. They had everything they could ever want in Neverland, the home they'd created out of nothing but thought and imagination.

But Calliope had wanted more. She wanted to see the vast oceans, the raging volcanoes, the towering mountains each unique as the wing print of a fairy. That, she couldn't find in Neverland.

Standing there, the rain cooling off the air and her body, she did feel the pang of loneliness though. She'd met hundreds of beings in her travels over the centuries. Some with hearts as dark as the void, others with nothing but kindness in their souls, and everywhere in between. But she'd never found a true friend. They'd been afraid of her, or in awe of her, or after they realized some of her magic had disappeared into the creation of Neverland, hopeful they could subdue her.

She missed her sisters. Clio, Euterpe, and Thalia, Melpomene, Terpsichore, lovely Erato and blessed Polyhymnia, and of course Urania, the sister who understood most her desire to explore the unexplored. She missed them terribly.

Calliope lowered her arms to her side, allowing them to rest as she blinked away the rain from her eyes. She closed her eyes again. Clearing her mind, she bent all her thoughts on Neverland. She wrinkled her nose, straining to reach it. With a whispered word, she tried to reach Urania.

Nothing.

Just blankness, a nothingness that Calliope had never experienced before. A cold shiver crept up her spine. She squeezed her eyes shut tighter and tried for Melpomene.

Still nothing. Not even a stray tear or a distant sob. She felt only a void, a coldness like Neverland was a room untouched by the sun for millennia.

Fear gripped her heart. Why were her sisters silent? They were never silent. They spent their days in the sun on the shore, teaching mermaids, nights on the highest peaks, drinking from wellsprings of life-giving waters. Euterpe would serenade them with her pan flute as Terpischore danced.

Why were they silent?

She bent all her thought on the island. The rain faded from her until it was just Calliope alone, her mind piecing together the outline of her home. Then she heard a scream.

Erato!

Calliope gasped, her eyes opening as she tried to comprehend what she'd seen. Blood and darkness, shadows and death. The Island, tainted. Her sisters, reeling in agony as their souls were ripped from their bodies. She found herself heaving broken breaths in the rain.

Her trembling hand went to her pouch. She took out a magic bean, one of the dozen she still had. Calliope wasted no time. She hurtled it forward. It exploded into a sparking circle of gold. On the other side, home.

The instant her feet hit Neverland's beach, she felt their absence. The land had shifted. In the still darkness, a sliver of a moon overhead, she could feel the cold creep in. Like a breath from the Underworld, it coated the land in fear and silence.

Her feet sank into the sand. Behind her, the lapping of the waves offered some small, rhythmic heartbeat of what she remembered once upon a time. Oceans didn't change. Not like her island had.

"I suspected you'd show, someday."

Calliope turned left. A boy, not out of his adolescence and hair the same brown as her own, stood clothed in greens about twenty feet away. A small smirk spread across his face as he reached into his pouch.

"Who are you," she demanded.

He grinned. "I'm Peter. Peter Pan."

She'd never heard the name, but she sensed the darkness in his heart. And more than that, she knew the pan flute he drew from his pouch.

"What did you do to them," she hissed. Calliope felt tears stinging her eyes as she moved a few feet forward. "You evil little child!"

"I didn't do anything. My shadow, on the other hand." He didn't move a muscle as she drew closer, just watched and waited. "We made this island our home."

Calliope felt a wave of pain wash over her, like the waters to her left. She could feel them, the memories. She could feel the pain. Clio had left that for her, the history. They'd died years ago. She'd never known. She'd left them alone.

She glanced up, forcing away the agony. This was her home, and she wanted it back. "You will leave this place. Now."

"Or what?" He gave a single, short laugh. "Your sisters are dead. The Island responds to me now. It's mine."

"It will never be yours," Calliope said. She sneered, feeling the anger building, rushing like fire through her veins. This boy, this child of darkness, had brought evil to her island.

A dark shadow, black as the void, rose from his body. Calliope's eyes widened. She'd met a Dark One once, and this, this seemed cut from the same cloth. Fear gripped her heart. What if he really did have the Island. She would die screaming like her sisters.

As it flew at her, she raised her arm. She would not die today, not from this child or his shadow. She had built this island. It had her magic in its bones, its veins were filled with her energy to give it life. It was hers, and she would not allow her sisters' memories to be so disgraced as to be wiped from existence. She would not see Hades, not today.

An explosion of golden light threw her back. Her body slammed into the sand, it feeling almost like stone until she shifted, propping her arm up and causing the sand to mold to her shape. Her head spun. But she saw the boy on the sand as well.

The shadow hovered by him as he, too, struggled up from the sand. Calliope hauled herself to her feet. She wanted to destroy him, this boy child. The ground cried out with the blood of her sisters, cried out for revenge. Calliope moved forward, jaw clenched.

She held up her hand. "You will leave this island, or you will die." Heat filled her palm as it glowed golden, her eyes seeing into the depth of his child before her.

He wasn't a child. He was a man. His heart had been darkened, evil filling every nook and cranny. She saw his hate, his bitterness towards his son. She tried to reach further, to his soul, to where she could tear him apart.

But she couldn't. It was just a void. Her magic didn't work.

Calliope glanced up at Peter Pan. He watched her too, the smirk gone from his face. The Island was hers, but he had found a way to control it too. The screams of her dead sisters echoed through her mind again. He had taken their power, their connections.

"Well, well. Guess you won't be avenging your sisters today after all." He smirked again. "I don't know how you plan to live with yourself, knowing the very island you created is no longer yours."

"It is mine." Calliope glanced up at the shadow that still lingered behind his head. "Nothing you or your Darkness can do will change that, Pan."

His smirk grew. "We'll see about that."


	3. ...a fury defiant...

**Hyperion Heights**

* * *

Melody stared at the little pile of crumbs she'd gathered with the broom. Roni was off chatting up the only three customers in the bar, a couple and their young son. Tourists, apparently. They'd come to Seattle to see where Nirvana had come from and spent the day walking around. The boy was munching on french fries. Melody watched him, a small smile on her face. He looked so content, sitting there with hands covered in salt and pepper, a ketchup stain on his face.

Roni mirrored their smiles. Melody knew it was fake; Roni was a bartender. If she wanted to, she could play any part. There was no reason to burden these out-of-towners with their story of woe. She glanced at the clock on the wall. It was already nearly three. Only eight hours until Victoria Belfrey owned the soul of Hyperion Heights.

She turned back to her sweeping. Laughter exploded from the group, but she ignored it. She had work to do. There weren't many patrons these days but if she wanted to get on with her guitar playing she needed to finish her cleaning.

When she had at last finished the dishes, she came out front to find Roni standing silent, alone behind the bar. No smile was on her face anymore. Just anger, and defeat. Melody knew, because she knew that look. She saw it in her face every morning.

"Almost happy hour," Melody commented. She moved to stand by the edge of the bar, running a still damp hand through her hair. It caught on her fingers. She sighed.

Roni snorted. She shook her head, a tiny bitter smile forming. She turned to Melody. "Happy Hour?" She tilted her head a bit, looking closer. "You okay, kid? You've been off this week."

"Don't turn your bartender magic on me," Melody said. But she couldn't help a tiny smile as Roni pulled out a shot glass and started filling it with whiskey. "So you mean, am I okay despite the obvious fact I'm losing my job again, twice in two months?"

"Nightmares again?" Roni asked.

She let out a long, silent breath. Then she nodded. "Yeah. I went down to the water last night, hoping it would give me a reset." In a single gulp, she downed the shot. "It didn't help."

"I thought the water always helps?"

Melody laughed. "So did I." A long pause stretched with just the sound of Roni refilling Melody's glass. She sighed. "You sure about selling the bar?"

Roni just scoffed. She shook her head, slamming the bottle back in its spot. A stupid question. "Not much else to do."

Before either could continue, the bell for the front door jingled. They both turned. Melody's eyes widened a bit in surprise. She'd never seen her Swyft driver before in her life and yet in less than 24 hours he was back around.

"Uh, excuse me, is this Roni's?" His messenger bag was draped over his grey sweatshirt, hand grabbing the strap as he looked around in confusion.

Roni just shot Melody a look of amusement before turning back to him. "I sure hope so. Or else I put the wrong sign out front. I'm Roni."

"Nice to meet you." He sounded hesitant still, but moved up to the bar. As he slid into a seat, he glanced at Melody. "Wait, didn't I pick you up last night?"

"That's me. Melody Black." She moved to join Roni behind the bar. Not that a single customer would offer a challenge, but it made her feel better, to seem useful. "Henry, right?"

"Yeah. Henry Mills."

"Well, what can we get ya? It's your lucky day, kid. Whole bar's half off till midnight." Roni turned into a bartender without a second thought.

"Midnight? Then what, place turns into a pumpkin?"

Melody couldn't help but scoff. She left Roni to explain their situation. Roni would be signing over the bar to Belfrey that night, before close. The woman was set to come in after dinner with all the paperwork.

Busying herself with arranging and rearranging tables, chairs, and baskets of pretzels, she tried to put it behind her. She tried to think about what losing her job could mean for her. New opportunities, maybe. Maybe she could finally get around to revising all her poetry. Maybe she could take a vacation, splurge a little and spend some time in the mountains of Colorado like she'd been wanting. It could be good.

She ran a finger over the scuff marks on the table she was cleaning. Scratches and dents left by livelier days, days before Belfrey had started splitting up the neighborhood and driving the people of Hyperion Heights out. Melody didn't want to lose her home, not again. She'd already lost one to grief and fear. She didn't want to lose this one, too.

"Melody's a writer, too."

At her name, she glanced back up. Roni smirked. She knew how much Melody hated talking about her writing. It was too personal. Too much of a look at her darkness. But Roni had been trying for nearly a year, even before she'd employed her, to try for publication.

"Really?" Henry turned to her in surprise. "What do you write?"

Melody shrugged. "It's nothing. Poetry, mostly."

"She's just being modest. She's always writing," Roni argued. "Henry said he's an author."

Melody looked at him closer. The name Henry Mills had sounded familiar. But she couldn't place it. "Oh?"

"Yeah, uh, I wrote this one book. It's not that good," he said. Henry swiveled in his chair away, as if to change the topic, but then he turned back. "It was self published."

"That doesn't mean it's not good," Melody argued. She leaned on the counter. "What's it called?"

"Once Upon a Time."

Melody grinned. Henry Mills! She did know that book. "I know that one! I read an ARC copy. It was great! Don't sell yourself short." She grabbed the drink Roni offered her, again. "So, you writing a sequel? It ended on a bit of a cliffhanger."

He sighed. "I don't know. Maybe. If I can find some inspiration for it."

Inspiration. Melody knew how hard that could be to come by. With her sorority sisters, she'd always been inspired, and worked to inspire them. Having a team could do that. But here in the Heights she'd not had the courage to let anyone read a single poem.

"Yeah, I know what that's like," she muttered.

Roni plopped a basket of pretzels down in front of them. "Sounds like you two could help each other. Give yourselves some inspiration."

With a laugh, Melody just shook her head. "Roni, I'm going to be too busy finding another job to start up a writing group."

With the reminder of Victoria Belfrey's impending attack, they all went quiet. Roni's frown deepened, and she refilled a shot glass for herself. Henry just sipped at his coffee.

"I'm taking fifteen, Roni," Melody said.

The woman just waved her off, so Melody stripped off her name tag and headed into the backroom. She sighed. Her purse sat on the table. Rummaging around, she pulled out her journal and flipped through. So many snippets of poetry and prose littered the pages, scraps since abandoned.

With her earbuds in, she grabbed her phone and journal and went back into the main bar. The seat by the fireplace was always her favorite. As Henry nursed his coffee, she sat listening to Florence + The Machine.

A flash of dark hair drew her attention away from her boat sketch only a few minutes later. She saw the familiar form of Jacinda rush in, laptop in her hands. She had the perpetual frown on her face, an all too common part of life in Hyperion Heights.

"Oh, hey Jacinda." Roni offered her a smile. "How's it going?"

"Great. Lucy's stealing computers now so... that's new." She came to stand by the bar, beside Henry Mills who looked at her wide-eyed.

"Never a dull moment with that kid," said Roni.

Jacinda let out a small huff of air. She turned to Henry. "Speaking of my little felon. You must be Henry. I'm so sorry about all this. I don't know what's gotten into her, but I promise you, it won't happen again."

From her spot by the fireplace, Melody just smirked. Henry looked smitten, watching her with his eyes wide and tripping over his words. Leaving them to their conversation, she popped her earbuds back in. Roni set two glasses of alcohol in front of them with a wide grin before moving away as well. Melody just returned to her sketch.

Her pencil flew across the lined page, forming masts and a ship's hull. She liked to play with the shapes of the ship, the way she could try and make it come alive on the page. Melody had been on the ocean a few times, back when she'd studied abroad in Greece, and though the Puget Sound basin wasn't nearly as picturesque, at least not in the same way as the Mediterranean, she almost preferred the dark blues of the Pacific. There she could imagine all sorts of things, stories that maybe she could turn into verse.

She'd just taken her earbuds out to get ready to go back on shift when the doorbell jingled again. She looked up. To her surprise and disgust, Victoria Belfrey paraded in, heels clicking on the wood floor. That woman wasn't supposed to show her face for hours.

Roni looked about as pleased as Melody felt. "The bar's yours at midnight, Victoria. Take a hike till then."

Victoria just glared, her highlighted dark hair framing her face perfectly as she continued on in. "Happy to, as soon as Jacinda tells me what the hell is going on. Lucy is sneaking out of your house in the middle of the night to meet up with some strange man?"

Melody's eyes widened. So that was how Lucy had gotten the laptop. It must've been her fairytale obsession. The girl was always going on about Once Upon a Time. Even though Melody didn't spend much time with them, she knew enough to guess that was why she'd sought out Henry Mills.

She sighed. She didn't want to sit and listen to Victoria Belfrey chew out her stepdaughter. Getting up from her seat, she crossed the bar to get to the back, leaving Belfrey behind making snide comments about Jacinda's day-drinking and irresponsibility. As she tucked her phone and journal away, she couldn't help but frown about it. Jacinda was one of the hardest working people she'd ever met. The woman was far from irresponsible.

By the time she worked her way out into the main room, only Roni remained. The woman looked murderous. Her knuckles were white from the grip on her glass.

"Uh oh," Melody said. She offered Roni a small smile. "I know that look."

Roni glanced over at her. With a quick movement, she drowned her entire shot glass. Then she slammed back on the bar. "I don't want that bitch taking my bar."

"That makes two of us."

Melody slipped into a bar stool. She made little circles on the concrete bar top with her finger, trying to distract herself from Roni's brewing anger. They had hours left, hours to stew and regret and boil with anger before Victoria Belfrey owned their livelihoods.

"Let's talk about you though," Roni said.

The forced sweetness of her tone made Melody look up. Roni's gaze was trained on her, a small little smile on her face. She knew that look. That was pity. Roni was the only person in Seattle who knew about what had brought Melody to the city. Long before she'd ever been offered a job at the bar, she and Roni had chatted over drinks as Melody had tried to drown the memories. They were vivid, both the memories and the nightmares. Alcohol helped, but sometimes a confidant did more than the bottle.

"What about me," she muttered.

Roni scoffed. "Should I make you your favorite?" The woman didn't even wait for a response before she'd mixed up a Rum and Coke. "There. Now talk."

They were alone in the bar. The silence hurt more than any long, busy shift could. It was existing in the stillness before a hurricane. Doom was coming. Melody could feel it. She had a sixth sense for those kinds of things. She'd warned her sisters not to drive that night, and they'd been killed by a drunk driver. She'd warned her mother to go get her colon checked, and she'd died from cancer.

"I keep hearing their screams," she finally admitted. The cold drink soothed her nerves a bit as took a large gulp. When it rested back on the bar, she looked up at Roni again. "Not literally, but... when I'm sleeping."

"How many years has it been?" Roni asked.

Melody sighed. Too many. "A little over five years."

"Have you reached out to the rest of them?"

The rest of them. Melody frowned, looking into Roni's brown eyes for a moment before turning away. She pushed her long hair behind her ear, getting it out of her face as a few unbidden tears stained her cheeks. She meant the rest of her family. There had been nine of them total in their family line: Melody, Polly, Erin, Tara, Talia, Urselina, Eugenia, Melanie, and Cleo. Sisters in Greek Life, devoted to service through music. Now, instead of nine, there were six.

"No," Melody admitted. She hadn't spoken to them since the funerals. "I can't."

"Why not?"

Melody scoffed. She took another drink. "You already know why, Roni."

"No, I know why you won't. Not why you can't. You blame yourself for something you had zero control over, Melody," she said. "You weren't there. You couldn't stop them from getting in that car. That was their choice."

"That's precisely why I can't reach out," she snapped. "If I had been there-"

But Roni cut her off. "If you had been there, you'd have died too."

Maybe. She probably would've gotten in that car with them, despite it being three in the morning. She'd told them to go home earlier that night. She'd told them not to be out so late. But they hadn't listened. After all, they'd told her what she knew was true. If she'd been able to be there that night, she'd have stayed out with them.

"Call them."

She looked up at Roni again. Her smile had faded. She meant business, using the tone of voice Roni often reserved for unruly customers.

"Maybe."

They fell into silence.

It took another hour for a customer to walk through the doors again. Their luck really had tanked since Belfrey had stepped up her game, buying places faster than the blink of an eye. With a customer, that meant no more drinking on the job.

Roni suggested she bring out the guitar. Maybe the music would do some good, cheer them up or bring in more customers. Melody certainly thought that to be a better plan than drinking away her sadness while on the clock.

She unpacked her acoustic guitar in the backroom. Running her hand over the dark wood, she took several deep breaths. The strings no longer hurt her callused fingers but she remembered the early days of playing. Those memories didn't leave either, just like the grief-stricken ones.

Songs used to come easy to her. She remembered nights on the Great Lawn, sprawled out with her family in a circle. Eugenia liked to bring out her ocarina. Melody used her guitar. Polly would sometimes sing. Together they would have impromptu jam sessions, poetry recitations, Urselina would even bring her telescope sometimes. She missed college. She missed those days where she could spend evenings on a green lawn surrounded by women her age with their biggest cares being over their capstones or next big paper.

Songs didn't come to her easily, not anymore. She didn't compose. She preferred cover songs. That was easier, somehow. She could focus on the words already written, not those stuck inside herself.

Melody set up by the fireplace. She used her phone app to tune, letting each string ring out through the quiet bar. Closing her eyes, she focused on the music. She let it inspire her. Starting with one of her favorite tracks from Amber Run, she sank into the chords.

Night fell. The customer had left, another coming in and then disappearing into the darkness like the previous. Roni cleaned glasses, both women listening to the music that Melody crafted. Harmonies and dissonance, chord after chord. Melody closed her eyes, thinking about the ocean, about the way the waters tossed endlessly. She tried to remember what it was like to love without pain. Tears streamed down her face, but she kept going. She kept playing, singing, existing in the beauty of the music.

The door opened. Melody opened her eyes, glancing up from the fireplace to see Victoria Belfrey stalking through their bar like a predator chasing her prey. She stopped the music. The woman barely spared her a glance, but Melody watched her. She watched as Belfrey smiled. She watched as Belfrey placed the packet of papers on the bar. She watched as Roni drew herself up and rounded the bar, movements slow and deliberate.

They exchanged few words. All three women knew why Belfrey was there. They didn't need to mince words. Roni was signing away the last bastion of hope from the old Hyperion Heights. The gathering place, where all members of the community used to frequent. Now it was empty, and soon it would be gone.

Roni clicked her pen open. She flicked it up and down for a moment, looking down at the contract. A long pause extended. Finally, she spoke up. "Nah. I don't think I'm gonna give you my bar today."

Both Melody and Belfrey looked at her in shock. Melody couldn't breathe. What was she saying?

Belfrey leaned closer. "What? We had a deal."

Roni nodded. "Yeah, well, that was yesterday."

"And what happened today?"

"Your step-daughter. She inspired me."

"By running away?"

Melody couldn't help the grin slowly spreading on her face. She covered her mouth, hoping Belfrey wouldn't notice. She didn't have a death wish. But as Roni started putting on that voice she knew to be fruitless to counter, she couldn't help the grin.

"By not giving in to you," Roni said. "You're so used to pushing people around, I think it's time you felt what it's like when someone pushes back."

"You can't win."

"Maybe. Maybe not." Roni just stared her down. She wouldn't back off this. "Today... I watched you march into my bar acting like you owned the place. And you know what? I didn't like it. And I realized if I sign this piece of paper you will own this place. And that I really don't like."

Melody wanted to get up. She wanted to go stand next to Roni as she dressed down Victoria Belfrey with her words and power. But she couldn't. She didn't want to paint a target on her back, not yet at least. Though she had to admit, as Roni continued to give her speech, that it was certainly inspiring.

"This is my bar. It's my home. It's my life. Sure, it's seen better days, but that doesn't mean it won't have better days again. And just because life isn't what you want it to be right now, doesn't mean you should tear it down." She took a deep breath, looking around the bar. Then she turned to Melody for a moment. "I started thinking about all the things I want to do and have that I'm not doing or having."

Melody thought of her sisters as Roni turned back to Belfrey. Roni liked to talk about how inspiring her music was. But Melody couldn't even be brave enough to reach out to the girls who had meant everything to her for four years, the girls who had cultivated that gift in her.

"Everyone in this neighborhood seems to have given up imagining what a better life might look like. But if we can admit to ourselves what we want is out there somewhere then maybe we can fight for it. And if we do that, then we're halfway to getting it." She smiled. Leaning into Belfrey, Roni let her teeth show in happy defiance. "That's the thing about the people of this town. Things can seem... hopeless. When suddenly, someone gives the rest of us inspiration."

Again, she glanced at Melody. Belfrey followed her gaze, and Melody forced herself to sit straighter, gripping the guitar to her chest. Inspiration. She used to know what that was. She used to cultivate it in her friends and family. Maybe it was time to do that again.

"Because the first step to a new beginning is imagining that one is even possible." Roni walked around the bar, going behind it to stand with her drinks. She pointed at Belfrey, the woman's full attention on her again. "And I'll be damned if I stand by and let a bully like you take that away from us anymore. Now if you'll excuse me."

Belfrey stepped back from the bar, drawing herself up to full height, The bite in her voice only grew with each word. "You'll regret this, Roni."

Roni laughed. "Uh, doubtful. Regret's not really my thing."

The other woman glared at her, then turned to Melody. She forced a smile on her face for Belfrey. With a last angry glare at Roni, she turned away and stalked out the door.

Melody picked at the strings of her guitar again. Her smile grew until it was a massive grin, something she couldn't contain. What a queen. Roni certainly knew how to give a speech when she needed to.

"Take that, bitch," Roni said, laughing as she downed another shot.

Melody broke into laughter. "That was amazing, Roni."

"There's something just so fun about screwing up that woman's plans." Roni laughed, leaving the bar and walking over, drink in one hand and in the other, a double chocolate donut on a napkin. "Here, this was yours."

The chime on the door jingled again. Both women looked over to find Officer Rogers and Detective Weaver walk in, chatting. Roni grinned and walked back to the bar.

"I'm surprised you're still open, Roni," Weaver said. "Isn't Belfrey buying this place today?"

"Not anymore," Melody said. She couldn't help it, still high off inspiration and bitter excitement over Roni's speech.

Weaver looked over at her. "You doing performances in here now, Melody?"

She looked down at the guitar. With a smile and shrug, she just moved over the bar. She wasn't sure she could call Weaver a friend, but she had a respect for him, for the way he wasn't afraid to socialize with the street rats and underdogs. He even slipped her money on a weekly basis, just asking that she kept an ear and an eye open during her street performances for any questionable people and things.

Roni just laughed, pouring Weaver a drink. "Figured it could pass the time." Then she looked at Rogers. "What's the occasion? You're not in here that often these days, Rogers."

"Meet my new assistant," Weaver said. "Detective Rogers, you know Roni, everyone does. Have you met Melody?"

He looked over at her. "You used to work at the coffee shop on the corner, right?"

"Guilty," she said. Melody looked at him. She remembered him, vaguely. They'd never formally met, she'd just handed him his drink every morning and offered a small smile. He'd always looked a bit sad. "Melody Black."

"Pleasure." He offered her a forced smile.

It was easy to tell the difference between a forced smile and a genuine one. There was pain behind those blue eyes of his, just like the pain she saw in the mirror every morning.

Roni and Weaver had moved to the other end of the bar, Roni regaling him about Belfrey and the look on her face when she'd rejected the contract. Melody couldn't remember the last time Roni had been so happy. It was a gift.

"You play?" Rogers asked.

Melody turned back to him. He was looking over her shoulder, pointing at the guitar she'd left on the fireplace. She nodded. "A bit."

"Weaver said you're a busker?" He took a small sip of the beer that Roni had placed on the bar for him.

"Yeah, I do alright." She also took a drink. "I play around the city. Sometimes down by the water, sometimes by the Troll or the Graffiti Wall. Sometimes the gardens."

Rogers nodded. He ran his thumb over the neck of the bottle in his hand, chewing at his cheek. Melody knew that look. A lot of his mannerisms she saw in herself. She thought back to Roni's speech. Inspiration. They needed inspiration, not hopelessness. So she decided to fall back on what she used to do, in the old days.

"Roni said you hadn't been in here in a while. Why not?" She sipped at her drink, leaning on the bar. "Too busy?"

He shook his head. "No. Just tired."

"That's familiar." She looked at him closer. Dark circles were under his eyes, like he hadn't slept in ages. At least not well. She knew the feeling. "Something's wrong."

He just looked at her, flashing her a small but genuine smile. Then he shook his head. "It's the Heights. Plenty's wrong."

Melody laughed. "Fair enough. But something's on your mind in particular."

"Oh you know that?" he asked, smile widening.

"I know these things. I bartend sometimes, it comes with the job," she said. Melody couldn't help mirroring his smile. "Bartenders are like therapists."

He huffed, shaking his head. After a moment of quiet, he looked back at her. "Turning over the Vidrio girl to Belfrey," he paused for a moment, "didn't feel like the best form."

"Oh, that was you." They'd seen Jacinda briefly, as she'd come by for a quick bite to eat on her way back to get her job from Louis in the chicken shop. Melody's face fell. She looked closer at him. "I'm sure you made the most of the situation. Not much else you could've done."

Rogers nodded. "Guess not." He took another drink.

"Got a favorite song?" He glanced up at her in confusion. She just chuckled. "If I know it, I can play it. Might cheer you up. Besides," Melody said, smiling, "I'm gonna try to milk this space as a music venue for as long as I can."

Rogers laughed with her, but shook his head. "Can't think of one. You choose."

"That's a lot of power you're giving me," she said. But Melody just grinned, downing the last bit of her drink and leaving it on the bar to return to the fireplace. She picked the guitar up and started strumming it absentmindedly.

He followed her over. As she started up her song, the conversation between Weaver and Roni ending, he watched. Melody plucked away. The room silenced except for her music and humming. Inspiration. What would be inspiring?

She broke out into a grin. "How about a little Disney."

The notes of You've Got a Friend in Me filled the room. She let the guitar stand for itself for a bit. It filled the bar, measure after measure. Finally, with a grin, she added her voice.

Inspiration.


	4. ...what will you have left...

**Neverland**

* * *

Calliope had never seen a ship arrive in Neverland. The one that floated offshore was large with a sail of white feathers adorning the front, a pegasus in black as decoration. As she hid in the trees, Calliope just watched. A small rowboat glided through the dark waters towards the shore. In it, two men in matching navy blue jackets, gold fringe and buttons rounding out the richness. Military men.

The boat hit the sand. They lept out, their boots sinking into the beach. Both looked around in confusion. Calliope couldn't help but smile a bit at their antics, one wandering a bit further inland, frowning. They had clearly come here on purpose; the pegasus sail allowed them flight to cross the Realms. So why did the one look so surprised?

The one who had moved closer inland shook his head. He turned back. "What exactly does the King have to find on this island?"

"A plant."

Calliope frowned. What plant did they hope to take? So many had withered away, others tainted by the Shadow and the evil child. Pan. She hated him. He couldn't touch her, not yet anyway. But she couldn't touch him either, or the Darkness that allied with him. With each passing day, she felt their grip on her home tightening.

"We journeyed across the realms for a plant?"

But at least the arrival of these two brought some source of amusement. She couldn't help grinning at their antics, though she stayed concealed in the forest. A few more minutes of watching, to see their motives. Then she would speak to them. She wanted to get to them before Pan.

The second man, clearly the one in charge as he knew the orders, just flashed a small smile. He waved a large envelope before his companion. Taking out the document, he showed it to the other. "Our sources say it's magical. Potent enough to heal any injury.

Calliope couldn't see the expression of the man in charge, but his friend faced her. He opened his mouth a bit, shocked. Then he nodded. "So we never have to bury another sailor at sea again?"

"Now you understand the importance of our mission."

That sounded promising. As Calliope moved to show herself, however, the voice that did nothing but fill her with rage sounded from the beach. Pan.

"Are you two lost?" He faced her, forcing the men to turn towards the water as they drew their swords. Calliope couldn't help but think that was on purpose. That way she couldn't warn them. Not without confronting Pan directly. "You look lost to me."

"Identify yourself, boy."

"I'm Peter Pan. I live here. Who are you?"

"Captain Jones. And my lieutenant. We're here by order of the King."

"The King, huh? We don't have any kings in Neverland." He looked between them, locking eyes with Calliope in the trees. "Just me."

Captain Jones gave a small huff of laughter. Then he held out the paper. "That's funny. We seek this plant. Now tell us, boy, where can we find it?"

Calliope's blood ran cold. They had no idea who they were dealing with. They couldn't know, of course. She wanted to warn them. She wanted to rush out, confront Pan. But she couldn't stop him from hurting these men. So she decided to bide her time.

"Your king sent you for this plant?"

She couldn't see the paper. But even Pan looked a bit surprised. Though she didn't like the tiny grin growing on his face one bit.

"You know it?"

Pan's smile widened just a bit. "Dreamshade? It's the deadliest plant on the island. Your king is really ruthless."

Calliope held her breath. Dreamshade. It had been beautiful, once. White blossoms that glowed in the moonlight, wrapping its way up cliff faces and outcroppings. The Shadow had tainted it as it had tried with everything on the island. Everything but her Well-spring.

Both the men protested. The second, the Lieutenant, just scoffed. "It's medicine."

"It's doom," Pan said, and for the first time, she agreed with him. "Why fight a messy battle when you can kill an entire army with the sap of one plant?"

She couldn't hear what was whispered between the men, but she could see the Lieutenant's face, half-turned to her as he conversed with his Captain. He was troubled, brow furrowed and frowning. Why couldn't Pan leave them alone!

Her hands balled into fists until they finally, mercifully decided to walk away. Leaving Pan standing with a smirk on his face, they went off in the wrong direction. Calliope released a long breath. She had no intention of helping them find that plant. Let them wander the wrong way; it would be safer for everyone.

She looked forward. Pan was grinning at her, and before she could do anything, he appeared not five feet beyond the treeline in front of her. Fury built up in her again. Fury at the boy, at the Shadow, at the fact that she couldn't hurt him. The Shadow fed off the souls of her dead sisters and Pan drew his power from that Darkness.

"Well, well. Come to see the new arrivals?" he teased. "Sorry I got there first."

Calliope felt her jaw clenching. She sneered. "Get out of here, Pan."

"Or what? You can't make me."

She hated how right he was. Pan knew it, too, the smile only growing on his smug face. She bit her cheek.

"That's what I thought. Now, you stay here," Pan said, "and I'll go help our lost friends."

"I'll do nothing of the sort," she snapped.

Pan laughed. He disappeared. Moments later, the Shadow, black as night with eyes like cold stars, materialized. If there was anything she hated more than the boy it was the Darkness. Its voice chilled her to the bone. Someday she hoped she could make Pan bleed. But Darkness couldn't bleed.

"Have you gone, yet?" it asked.

Calliope frowned. She knew what it referred to. It wanted her to travel to Dark Hollow. Her sisters were there, their shadow forms at least. Or so it said. But she couldn't. She couldn't see their broken souls doing the bidding of an evil master.

"Out of my way, Darkness," she said.

It laughed. "You don't like this form? How about one a bit more familiar."

The ink-black shadow disappeared. In its place on the ground stood a familiar figure. Light brown hair braided as a crown on her head, a red and golden dress flowing about her bare feet, her sister Clio didn't speak. She held an open scroll. With a small smile, though her face was wet with tears, she turned the parchment towards Calliope.

"Clio." Calliope's voice broke as she looked at her younger sister. "Clio."

The parchment turned black. So did her eyes, and Calliope jolted back in fear. This wasn't Clio. This was the Darkness. She choked on her tears but turned away. She couldn't watch as her sister withered away. But she couldn't block out the screams.

At last, silence reigned. Her hands covered her temples, Calliope trying, desperately, to drive the images and sounds from her mind. She couldn't let it win. As she stood up straighter, staring out across the bay towards the great ship, she took a deep breath.

Pan had to be stopped.

Calliope closed her eyes. With a whispered word she focused all her attention on the source of the Island's power, the waters that ran with her magic. She concentrated. Moments later, a coldness like a winter rain washed over her, and then she opened her eyes. She found herself staring at the visitors barely two meters from her.

Both shouted. Before she could say anything, two identical swords pointed at her chest. Calliope had to work to suppress a smile. "Put those down, before you hurt yourselves." She smiled wider as they watched open-mouthed. "You can trust me."

"First a magic boy and now a strange woman," the Captain muttered. But he didn't lower his sword, still holding it a few inches from her chest. "What kind of island is this?"

"The kind that belongs to me," she said.

The Captain scoffed. "The boy said he was alone."

"The boy lies." Calliope waved her hand. In a puff of gold and white smoke, the swords appeared back in their sheaths. "I heard your name, Captain Jones." Looking to his left, she faced the other, the one she'd seen more clearly on the beach. "You are?"

For a moment, he paused. His gaze flicked from her to the sword at his side, to his companion. But then he turned back to her. "Lieutenant Killian Jones."

Calliope looked at them in surprise. But then she grinned, shifting where she stood as the wind picked up on the walkway up to the peak of the mountain. Her hair whipped into her face. "Brothers? I can see it now."

"We're on a mission here for our king," Captain Jones told her. He drew himself up taller, looking down as he had a couple of inches on her. "We seek the plant Dreamshade."

"Don't take it," Calliope urged. But as the man just scoffed a bit, huffing and turning to look off the edge of the path down at the rest of the island, she focused her attention on Killian Jones. "It's dangerous."

"With all due respect," said the Captain, "Why should we trust you or that boy? You haven't even given your name."

"Calliope."

"You say it's dangerous?" Killian pressed. He turned to his brother, "Liam."

She nodded. Calliope still blocked the path, the winding way not big enough for more than two abreast around the cliff face. But before she could respond, Liam shut it down.

"She says the boy is a liar, but he tried to warn us too. Who are we to believe?" He shook his head. "I choose to trust in the honor of my king."

Killian frowned. But as Liam moved forward towards Calliope, he didn't stop him. Her heart sank. They made their choice, coming to stand before her, looking down at her from less than a foot away. So be it. She stepped aside, letting her back rest against the uneven stone. Liam pushed past her first, not sparing her a glance. He'd already made up his mind. But Killian, he paused. She caught his eye, hoping she could kindle something in him, a question, a courage to stand up to his brother. But he left too.

Soon it was just her and the dramatic view of her island. A breeze blew her pale dress around her body as it did her hair into her face. It really was beautiful, even with the Darkness. Forests stretching endlessly, beautiful blue-green waters reaching towards the horizon. For a moment she thought she could spy the glitter of mermaid tails in the closest cove. Calliope allowed herself a few moments to smile.

She tried to scream when Pan appeared in front of her. She couldn't, though, as her body wouldn't respond. Squid ink. Calliope could barely breathe. The blood in her veins became like ice.

"Let's play a game. You know I love those," Pan said. He grinned, moving to whisper in her ear. "What happens if Dreamshade gets into the bloodstream of a mortal?"

"You know what happens," she hissed. Calliope tried to turn to him, to face him, but Pan just laughed and walked down the path.

She could hear his shouts. Not Pan's, the boy never shouted. Killian Jones, if she had to guess. He was shouting, crying out for help. But Calliope still couldn't move. She still couldn't break free.

Then silence fell. Calliope's breath came in heaves as the spell wore off, grasping at the stones with her hands. It was like her sisters all over again. She couldn't help. She hadn't been able to help.

When she appeared at the top of the cliff, she found Liam Jones' body splayed out on the ground. Her breath caught. Glancing left, she saw that someone, Pan evidently, had moved the Dreamshade aside to allow a path to the well-spring. The other Jones brother stood inside.

Calliope dropped beside the Captain. She looked at him, his curly brown hair stuck to his pale face with sweat from the climb. A quick once over revealed where the Dreamshade had set in. A cut, about three inches long on his left forearm, oozed black all around it. She held back tears, placing her hand on his arm.

It felt frigid to the touch. Calliope closed her eyes, trying to concentrate. She tried to reach what the poison had been before the Shadow corrupted it. But nothing remained except the evil that it had transformed into.

"Hey!"

She glanced left. Killian Jones reappeared from her cave, dripping canteen in hand. She recognized the fear in his eyes. Calliope stood back up, moving away.

"The boy said this would cure him," Killian said.

Calliope hesitated. "Yes. It will. But then you cannot leave this island."

"Not until we pay," Killian said. He nodded. "The boy told me that too."

Before she had a chance to correct him, to explain the game Pan was playing, Killian Jones had already begun to pour the liquid into his brother's pale lips. She felt it work. The well-spring's water got its power from her, and from her sisters. Pan had placed Dreamshade in front of it as a mockery, if she had to guess. A reminder of his own power.

"Brother?" Killian shook him. "Brother!"

Liam sputtered for a moment, then murmured to him. "That's Captain to you."

As joyful as Killian was when his brother sat up, groaning at first but then breaking into a smile, Calliope felt only unease. Foreboding fell over her heart as she hung back by the cliff edge. She couldn't smile. Not while watching these two men become pawns in Pan's intricate game.

"What happened?" Liam asked.

Killian just shook his head. He stood away, grinning from ear to ear. "It doesn't matter. Now let's pay the boy. Boy, what do you want? Boy?"

"You don't have anything he wants," Calliope said.

Both of them turned to look at her. Liam frowned, scrambling up from the ground and moving his left arm around as if to massage what was no longer there. But Killian just shook his head.

"We said we would pay," Killian objected. "It would be bad form to just leave."

Calliope frowned. "You already have paid. These waters are sacred to Neverland. They are the source of the magic here, and reach into every corner of this realm."

"How do you know so much about this?" Liam moved over to her, still not smiling. He looked at her closer before turning to Killian. "You said the boy told you about the water?"

"I know about this place because I created it," Calliope said. "My sisters and I, this place was created with our magic."

Killian walked over to her. His smile had dropped. "Then what was the price?"

"Captain Jones cannot leave." She glanced at the older one. "As I said, the magic from this spring reaches every inch of the realm, but not beyond."

"That's preposterous." Liam shook his head, pulling his sleeve back over his arm. "I've never heard of magic like that. And anyway, the boy is the one who saved my life, not you."

"Please," Calliope said. "You must stay."

"No."

She frowned. Calliope turned to Killian. He looked much more uncertain than his brother, eyebrows furrowed and mouth set in a frown. The small ponytail that held his hair back blew to the side in the wind of the cliff as they stood there in a small triangle by the well-spring.

"Come on, Killian," Liam said. He left no room for argument as he set back on the path down the mountain. "Let's get back to the ship."

And so, once more, Calliope found herself alone. She faced the small cove where the Jones' ship had moored, bobbing there like an apple in a bucket of water. Just before the brothers disappeared from view, she called out to them.

"If you have need of me, speak my name." She moved to the edge of the path. Killian and Liam both looked back, though the latter only for a moment. So she spoke to the younger. "Calliope. Say my name, I can hear it from anywhere, across any realm."

He paused, then nodded. "Thank you."

With that, they both rounded a corner out of view. Calliope sighed. They would need her. As soon as their ship passed beyond the borders of Neverland, they would need her. She wasn't sure if she could sustain what the waters had started, but she would try.

Calliope stayed there on the edge of the cliff for nearly an hour. She stood there alone, letting the wind whip her hair around her face and billow her dress. It felt good. But it felt lonely. The peak had been Urania's favorite spot. Now it echoed with the memories of her death.

The ship slowly left the waters around the Island. She could feel them drifting away, going beyond the reaches of her island's magic. It wouldn't be long. Captain Jones couldn't last long.

And indeed, when she heard her name whispered on the winds, a desperate cry from Killian Jones, it hadn't taken long. The pain in his voice gripped her heart. She closed her eyes. She knew that pain, the pain of losing a sibling.

"You're going after them, then?" Pan asked.

She looked right, the boy and the Shadow now just beside her. The boy's wicked smile widened at her silence.

He just laughed. "You know that every minute you're away, you're going to lose this island more and more." Pan walked closer to her, whispering in her ear. "Just how much is helping the needy worth, Calliope? Is it worth the land of your sisters?"

She could feel the tears in her eyes. He was right. The longer she stayed away, the less grip on the Island's control she would have. But as another whispered scream graced her ears, she fought the rage.

She tossed a magic bean from her pouch just off the cliff. It exploded into golden sparks. Turning, Calliope leaned in towards Pan, getting mere inches from his nose. She stared into his hazel eyes. "I don't like to play your games, evil child. But don't think this one is over. I will be back."

He grinned. "Oh, I'm counting on it."


	5. ...for the lonely...

**Hyperion Heights**

* * *

The October breeze blowing through downtown Seattle before dawn chilled all of Melody’s exposed skin. What she hadn’t been able to hide behind scarf or beanie she suspected was turning a bright red, but the hot latte clutched between her two gloved hands offered at least a bit of relief. The sidewalk was quiet, unlike the streets.

As with any workday, traffic cast red and white lights through the darkness. Honks and engine revs sounded around her until it faded to background noise, like natural city music. Not quite as soothing as the ocean waves, nature’s heartbeat, but it brought some normalcy to Melody’s anxious mind.

Her breath fogged as she continued to stroll down the city sidewalk. She took a sip of her drink. It scalded her mouth but Melody didn’t mind. Her thoughts were scattered already, playing over scenarios time and again related to reaching out to her surviving sorority family.

Melody had deleted her Facebook after the accident. She’d become something of a social recluse, running from the world all the way to Hyperion Heights until all she had were memories and broken dreams. The only thing that remained were five numbers in her phone, all undialed since soon after graduation.

Roni’s words rang out in her mind, though. Reach out. If she didn’t, she might regret it. But as she paused beneath a red crosswalk sign, Melody couldn’t help but think she would regret breaking the silence too.

“Miss Black?”

She turned, surprised at the formality of who’d spoken. She couldn’t help but smile a little to see Detective Rogers fiddling with his black coat. He’d just come from one of the apartment buildings and came to stand by her at the streetcorner.

“Detective Rogers,” she said. Grinning, Melody gestured to him. “Please, call me Melody. I feel old when you use my surname. What are you doing up this early?”

He shrugged, flashing her a forced smile back. After telling her she could drop his title, Rogers sighed. “I like to clear my head. The early morning’s good for that.” Then he looked at her. “You?”

She nodded at him. “The same.”

The crosswalk flashed white and they both started forward. Neither spoke as they crossed the street, but once they reached the other side, Melody pulled them over for a bit so she could look at him. He seemed sad, just like the night before.

“Are you still worried about Jacinda and Lucy?” she asked.

At her question, Rogers startled for a moment. He broke eye contact with her, looking around the dark city streets. Then he turned back. “Yes. Though I have little doubt that girl will be fine. She’s quite the survivor.”

Melody nodded. She agreed with him. Lucy had a knack for getting out of tough spots, and pulling those around her right out alongside her. “Something else is bothering you, then. I know that look on your face.”

“Playing therapist again?” he asked. His tone was sharp, but then he offered her a small smile before sipping his coffee. “You’re too perceptive.”

“I thought a Detective would appreciate that,” she half-joked. “I’ve still got another half hour to walk back towards my apartment if you want company on clearing your head.”

He nodded. “Lead the way.” He fell into step beside her as they started walking downhill to the right. Passing a Starbucks and then a bustling McDonald’s, neither spoke. But as they came to a quieter corner, Rogers did interrupt the silence. “Roni mentioned you’re a writer, last night I mean,” he said. Gesturing to the notebook in her left hand, he asked what it was she worked on. “I don’t mean to pry-”

Melody shrugged. It did make her a bit uncomfortable, not because of Rogers but because of the sensitive nature of the contents. They held so much of her grief, those pages. But before she answered, she noticed he also had a black notebook tucked under his arm. “You write as well?”

He paused, falling quiet for a moment, any hint of a smile dropping as they walked on. He shook his head, but pulled out the journal. “No. This belonged to a girl who went missing about ten years ago.” He looked at her. “I never solved the case.”

“But you kept the journal?” Melody asked.

“Aye.”

Melody nodded at him. She understood, or guessed she did. “You think it may help solve it, someday.”

They came to another crosswalk. The red light spilled out onto the ground where a shopkeeper had power washed before opening. Rogers nodded, turning to face her. “She poured her life into this.” He waved in front of her for a moment. “I feel like the pieces are in here.”

She took a deep breath. The scent of a nearby bakery filled her nose, much more pleasant than the usual aroma of urine and garbage from Seattle’s downtown area. She tossed her empty coffee cup into a trashcan. Then she pulled out her notebook.

“I write poetry, mostly,” she admitted. Thumbing through the pages, Melody skimmed her verses, frowning. “It helps to process... things.”

“You lost someone?” Rogers asked. When she looked up at him with a glare, he just shrugged. He couldn’t from smirking. “I am a detective.”

In the darkness before dawn, a cool breeze on her face, Melody someone found the words she’d spoken only to Roni since arriving in Hyperion Heights. She trusted Rogers. His eyes were sad like the ones she saw in her own mirror each morning. He was searching for something, just like her. The darkness inspired her to speak.

“I came to Hyperion Heights about five years ago,” she admitted. Melody closed the journal, gripping it with both hands. “I’d recently graduated college with eight of my sorority sisters. We’re as close as blood siblings,” she added. Her voice fell for a moment. “Or, we were.”

She remembered it like it was yesterday. Her inability to stay in one place, to stay home, had meant she’d been off exploring Yosemite National Park instead of counseling her sisters to make good decisions about what time of night to drive. Melody glanced back at Rogers. The crosswalk light turned white, but neither moved.

“Three of them were killed in a massive car accident,” she explained. Melody stuffed down the tears, fighting against the painful grip the emotions had on her throat.

Rogers frowned. “I’m so sorry.”

She couldn’t look at him. Only at his black shoes on the grey sidewalk, and her own brown boots. When the crosswalk flashed red again, it looked like blood reflected on the small puddles all around. Once she had control over her emotions again, she looked up. “I write to remember. And to dream,” she sighed. “Everything goes into this journal. Much the same as your missing girl, I’d guess.”

“Aye, you’re right.” He sighed, flipping through it. “Eloise Gardner. I feel I know her, though a decade too late.”

Melody forced a smile. She looked at him. “I don’t think you think that. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have kept that journal.” As he looked up quizzically, she just waved her own for a moment. “There is power in written word, Rogers.”

He paused for just a moment. The crosswalk turned white, and they both started across as the sun began to rise. “As a writer, do you ever find yourself composing characters based on real people you’ve met?”

“I’m sure, even without thinking of it,” she told him. “Why?”

“Years back, I was shot on the job, down an alley.” He took a deep breath before looking over at her again. “I thought that was it. I was sure. Then this woman, she appeared out of nowhere. She looked at me, pressed her hand on the bullet wound. Said if I believed in her, it would work.” He gave a small huff of a laugh. “I swear the woman, who I’ve never laid eyes on again, is the same that Henry Mills drew in his book.”

“Once Upon a Time?” Melody’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “How’s that possible?”

“I’ve no idea, but I went to talk to Henry this morning,” he admitted. “That’s why I was out. But I swear it’s her.” He shook his head, walking beside her still, hands back in his pockets. “She reminded me I had to do things the right way. Be a hero, or else all my work for finding Eloise would be wasted.”

Melody smiled. “There is power in written word,” she repeated. “And in illustration. I’ve seen the pictures Henry drew. They’re beautiful.”

“Aye, though they don’t do her justice,” Rogers said. “The woman, I mean.”

“Often our creations don’t even scratch the surface of our imagination,” she said. Melody started smiling, slowing down a bit as the sun rose over the horizon of the street. She placed a hand on Rogers’ arm, stopping him. Melody pulled out her journal. “I spend a lot of time drawing, as well. I did this one down by the docks.”

She showed him a sketch of a large ship, sails billowing in the breeze on the page. It was done entirely in pen ink, scratches for shading on the wood, and roiling waves darkened beneath the prow. It took up the entire righthand page.

“Beautiful,” Rogers said. He looked down at it, not saying anything else. After a few moments of admiring it, he turned to her. “Have you been on a ship like that?”

Melody shook her head. “No. But I’d like to. Someday,” she added. “The ocean is incredible. Epic, honestly. It inspires a lot of my poetry.”

They came to a stop outside her apartment. The sun had fully risen, casting shadows down the street from passersby, men and women hurrying to catch buses. She heard the train rush by. The city had finally woken up.

“Thanks for walking with me,” Melody told him. She smiled, and so did he, and she turned away. But as the door unlocked, she turned back around. “I’ve got a shift at Roni’s tonight if you need a drink after whatever Detective Weaver makes you do.”

He laughed. “Thanks. I’ll probably need it.”

“You’ll be fine.”

“Oh, you know that?” he joked. Rogers broke out into a grin. “Why?”

“Faith. Trust.”

Rogers smirked, one eyebrow raised in surprise. “And Pixie dust?”

She just laughed. “Something like that.”

Melody flashed him a final smile before heading inside and letting the door close behind her. The exposed skin on her face began to warm up slowly in the heat. She had to duck out of the way as a few children came barreling down the stairs. School waited for no one, she supposed.

And neither did work.


	6. ...make amends with all my shadows...

**The Enchanted Forest**

* * *

Calliope had seen many dead bodies in her life. After centuries of realm hopping, she’d made her fair share of enemies, and enemies often left casualties. The glassy emptiness of the eyes of the dead stuck out to her most though, even more than the unnatural stillness that a more ignorant person could confuse with sleep. Vacant eyes were unmistakable, though.

She could hear Killian Jones above deck. Once they’d realized she was powerless to save Liam, he’d left her in the main cabin, standing over a map table marked with little red and blue flags. At first it had just been her, the creaking timbers, and the rocking of the ship. But then she’d heard the shouts.

Killian had been in a daze. He’d followed the soldiers out who carried the captain between them, sparing her barely a glance and no words. Calliope couldn’t stop her own tears, face flushed with anger at what Pan had done with the beauty of her Island, he and the Shadow turning it to evil. It had separated siblings, again.

In the silent moments she’d shared with Killian, she’d seen the vacancy in his eyes that reminded her so much of his brother’s. But the shouting above deck, calls for living by nobility alone, disowning the king for his treachery, the cries for a turn to piracy, spoke to the anger that had taken over. Calliope knew it well. She’d tried to kill Pan, repeatedly. Only the realization that she physically could not was what forced her to rethink her methods. Her priority became sabotage instead of murder.

Killian, it seemed, had taken a similar stance against his enemy. The King would be made to suffer for his evil. So she stayed by the table, staring out the windows onto the sea. She listened to the muffled cheers above deck.

When the door crashed open, she spun around. Killian Jones, rid of his navy uniform so only the pale blouse and pants remained, stood staring at her. She didn’t speak. At first neither did he, his anger loud enough through his clenched jaw and pointed stare. He closed the door.

“Why are you here,” he snapped.

Calliope frowned. She stood up from leaning against the sloped white wall. “I tried to save him.”

“Why couldn’t you stop the poison, if you’re so damn powerful as to make that place!” He stalked further into the room, agitated movements making Calliope step back. “Your bloody island killed him.”

“I warned you not to leave, Lieutenant-”

“I don’t work for the king,” he sneered.

Calliope nodded. “Killian, then. I told you that Pan plays games. Your brother is not the first casualty of Neverland.”

Killian stalked towards her, over where she stood near the head of the bed. He made a fist. Slamming his hand against the wood near her head, he couldn’t find words. She just watched him, staring into his blue eyes without flinching.

He backed away. His hands still shook, from anger or grief Calliope couldn’t tell. Probably both. She remembered what that was like. So much pain.

“I lost my sisters to my own Island, Killian,” she said. Speaking it aloud hurt even more than keeping it in, but he deserved this. He deserved to know someone else felt his pain. To not be alone. She had been alone for so long. “There were nine of us, originally. Muses, daughters of Zeus and a former fairy. I was the first. And now the last.”

Killian turned to look at her. He faced away from the door, not meeting her gaze at first. When he finally did, he stayed silent. Calliope chose to take it as a good sign.

“I spent ages traveling the realms after we created Neverland. They wanted a place to stay, to be safe,” she said. Calliope felt her throat tightening, soreness from the grief. “I didn’t want that. So I left. At some point, somehow, Darkness came to Neverland and began to change the Island. By the time I returned, all eight of my sisters were dead and Pan had joined forces with the Shadow.”

“The Shadow?” Killian asked, voice breaking.

Calliope nodded. “I don’t know what it is. It’s primal, a force of Darkness. But Pan doesn’t work alone. He gets his magic from the Shadow, which draws strength from my dead sisters.”

“That’s why you can’t kill him?”

“Yes. I can’t fight myself,” she said. Calliope closed her eyes. She could hear their screams in her mind again, feel their pain and memories. “In Neverland, I am both the weakest and most powerful. I couldn’t save my sisters, Killian. Just like I couldn’t save your brother.” As she saw the young man in front of her deflating, backing up against the other side of the small Captain’s cabin, she felt her heart break. “Killian, I am so sorry.”

He didn’t respond. He fought against tears, refusing to look at her. The ship continued to rock, moving through the waves at a steady pace. The creaking timbers reminded Calliope of breaking hearts. In the silence, her whole body ached from the loss of her sisters. She had brought this on them. She’d left, not thought to check on them until it was too late. And now Killian and Liam had paid the price.

“Why are you still here?” Killian finally broke the silence a few minutes later, only a few tears wetting his cheeks.

She took a deep breath. A good question. Her brown boots had been rooted to the spot in that Captain’s cabin since Liam had been carted away. She looked at Killian there, blue eyes red from tears, face wet and brown hair sticking to his cheeks. She couldn’t leave him to himself, not after her island had taken his brother.

“I couldn’t save your brother. But I can help you,” she offered. “As a guide, or an ally. Your king sent you to my land uninvited,” she reminded him. “I have no love for him. I know what it’s like to lose family. No one should have to go through that.”

“I don’t need your pity,” Killian snapped.

Calliope let out a small laugh, looking away. People often said that. Why pity was scorned, she could never figure out. Staring out the window, she watched the waves turn white as the ship broke them. Calliope turned back. “How about an ally, then. You’re an honorable man, from what I’ve seen. I can help.”

He nodded, just slightly at first but with growing confidence. “For how long?”

Her frowned deepened. Calliope looked away for a moment, studying the map on the table. Then she turned back. “I don’t know. Every moment I’m away, Pan and his Shadow will take more of Neverland from me. But I will help you here, since I couldn’t help while in Neverland.” She flicked her hand and in a swirl of white and gold smoke, she switched her dress for her tunic and pants.

Killian didn’t speak for a few moments. He just stared at her there, then out of the windows. Finally, he turned back to her. “You know it’s bad luck for a woman to come aboard a ship.”

Calliope let out a small laugh. “Even when she brings a pouch full of magic beans?”

“Maybe we can overlook the superstition just this once.” He forced out a small smile. Gesturing to the door, he waited for her to follow. “So, what now, Muse?”

She had to blink against the sun when her boots hit the deck. Killian stood next to her, arms folded across his chest. They watched the sailors scrubbing decks, a few being lowered down by rope by their peers to work on a new paint job. They worked like a machine.

“That’s up to you. I’m here for support. Captain,” she said. Calliope turned to him, offering him a smile.

He narrowed his eyes, watching over the deck and the men on it. They swarmed about, some lingering by the sails drinking and laughing, others working the rigging. Killian locked eyes with one and stalked forward.

“I’ll take that, mate,” he said, raising his voice. He met the man by the mast, pointing to the flask in his hand. “Don’t mind if your new Captain takes a drink, do you?”

The man raised his hand, putting the brown flask in Killian’s own. With a nod, Killian turned. He took a drink, relishing the smoothness of the alcohol. Calliope watched a bit of peace settle on him as he started up the couple of steps. He locked eyes with her before turning back to the crew.

“This here’s Calliope, men. She’s to be our ally out here against the King,” he said, shouting over the sounds of the deck. “It was her island that we were forced to trespass on, and it was she who tried to reveal the King’s treachery. So. From here on out, she’s one of us.” He smirked, downing another long drink of the alcohol. Then he turned to her, and raised it up. “To our new muse.”


End file.
